


Devil's Mouth

by bangbang_dear, composersboy



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Death, M/M, Sexual Content, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangbang_dear/pseuds/bangbang_dear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/composersboy/pseuds/composersboy
Summary: Neku had always compared Joshua's smile to that of the devil. He would have never guessed how accurate of a statement that would become.





	1. 2014

   “Okay, so if today’s mission were to get every inch of my floor covered in mud… I’d say we did a pretty damn good job.” Neku laughed, despite the dread lingering in his stomach at the thought of cleaning up after themselves. He saw mud; he saw an opportunity to push his unsuspecting counterpart into it. The last thing he was thinking about was how he was going to have to get on all fours to scrub his apartment until it sparkled again. He was fortunate to have snagged a living space without carpet.

   As for the shower rug? He could toss that in the laundry pile.

   “Not to mention yourself.”

   Now that his shoes had been kicked off his feet, Neku extended a thumb to brush away the mud looming dangerously close to Joshua’s eye. Despite Joshua’s eye squinting shut, he moved carefully. There. All better. What kind of friend would he be if he allowed the blond to risk catching a case of pinkeye?

   Once he’d pulled away, a second pair of shoes gave a _thunk_ as they hit the corner of the bathroom. There would be no hope of recovery for those ones. Bleach white sneakers doomed to a life of paint spatter patterned brown. Neku could guess that Joshua were considering throwing them away at this point. Or maybe he would frame them like a dear memento.

   “You look like a ganguro kid,” he said, flatly, as soon as his vision were in the clear. This was probably best faux tan Joshua could ever hope for. And natural, too. Gluten free. “You could be Instagram famous. Hashtag living authentically, hashtag no filter.”

   “It would take a lot more than that to make me internet famous. You should know. You’re the one who posts half the shit I have uploaded to my social media accounts.”

   It was true, too. Neku had a far greater presence on the internet than he had had before college. Now that he was a year away from achieving his degree, he was overdue in advertising his art. Regardless of his creative years, Neku had gained a follower count only half the size of Joshua’s—and all the guy did was post selfies and candid shots of the redhead. It may have to do with the blond’s photography skills and witty commentary as much as anything else. Then again, Neku could hardly blame them. Joshua’s face was so--

    “Right now, you couldn’t convince me to do anything except get in the shower.”

   “Um. Excuse me? You think _you_ get first dibs?” The blond made a sweeping gesture toward his own state of ilk. As if he truly expected Neku to care half as much about it than he did. Not even close. It was all Neku’s fault to begin with. “I won’t even rock paper scissor for it. It’s mine.”

   “It’s _my_ shower. I don’t see you paying any of the bills around here. That means I get to use it first.”

   What was it like to be well mannered or to be a good host? Neku didn’t know her.

   He stuck his tongue out at Joshua, all before crossing his arms at the waist to draw his shirt over his head. The article of clothing fell between their feet with a sickening slop. Joshua promptly inched away from the accursed thing as if it could turn into a Paranormal Activity scene at any moment. And now that it was smeared all over Neku’s face, too, the blond lifted his gaze to give him the same look.

   The man must look like an overgrown peanut butter baby. Awesome. His lips curved upwards into a smile at the thought, which only disgusted the other farther. He could see it clearly in Joshua’s eyes. _Have you no shame?_

   No, no he did not. His hands rested on his hips as he watched Joshua survey his options. There wasn’t much to work with, not with the two of them already confined into the same bathroom. How did that manage to happen, anyhow? Who the hell was the one who closed the door?

   Neither of them must have given much thought to the gesture. Even now Neku hardly lingered on it, other than the peculiarity of how typical such things were between them. They might as well be ma—

   Neku was waiting to see if Joshua would try and strip faster than him. They both knew he wouldn’t be able to, which would make it hysterical if he were to try. A laugh was beginning to bubble in his throat when—suddenly—Joshua leapt past him and into the tub. He was flooring the hot water like a man returned home from seven days in the desert, all before Neku could so much as blink.

   “Hey!” the word hardly came out more articulate than a growl. He undid the button of his shorts, albeit scrambling, stepping out of them as he hurried into the shower after him. Neku almost fell to his death in the damn process—only barely catching his weight against the wall prior to splitting his head open.

   It had been a long time since Neku stood in front of Joshua in nothing more than his underwear. He could hardly think about that, however, not while he grabbed a fistful of Joshua’s shirt and gave it a pull.

   “I am not leaving _my_ bathroom until I get all of this mud off.”

   “Then wait your turn, Neku!” squawked a very disgruntled Joshua. He swatted the other’s hands away with utmost offense. “You could ask politely if you want me undressed. Your behavior is both salacious and reprehensible. Not to mention you’re a sore loser. I won this shower fair and square.”

   “You won it by cheating. Don’t be such a fucking baby.” Now that he had been forced to release his grip, he stood up straight with his arms folded over his chest. “Why don’t we _both_ take a shower?”

   It… wouldn’t be the first thing today that Neku did on impulse. He could feel his cheeks warming beneath the layer of mud. With the way that Joshua was staring at him, he might as well have asked to borrow a helicopter from him.

   “You forgot to say no homo,” the blond pointed out.

   “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Get out of those disgusting clothes already.” He attempted to move around Joshua within their limited space. It took a bit of effort, but he managed to get by after squeezing himself against the wall. Once there he took a swipe at the blond’s hands. “Give me that. You’re going to make it as hot as a fucking volcano in here.”

   “That’s the point, jughead. Elevated temperatures stand a better chance of eradicating harmful bacteria.” Stubbornly, he bumped his hip into Neku’s, holding tight to his guns—so to speak. Of course, how could he expect Joshua to have to share a shower _and_ bathe cold? Despicable. “You can argue with me, Neku, but there is no denying science. Go on, fight Bill Nye. Cash him outside.”

   Neku frowned at him, leaned in close so that their noses nearly brushed. Maybe they did. Then again, maybe it was the steam that made him feel so warm all the sudden. "The only person I'm going to be fighting is you, if you don't hand it over. You and I both know I could throw your scrawny ass out of here whenever I please."

   With a dainty and very displeased sniff, Joshua stepped to the side. He was potentially escaping his own pulse than Neku’s threats. Fear caused you to sweat. Kiryu had made it very clear that he couldn’t stand his own body odor over the course of their seven-year-long friendship.

   “Fine. Catch Ebola. See if I give a hoot.”

   “It’s going to be ten times harder to take your clothes off, now that you’re soaking wet.” Neku retorted. He twisted the nob a little to the right, just enough so that the temperature could drop a couple of degrees. Only then did he shed his last article of clothing.

   As the water poured over his shoulders, he almost didn’t hear Joshua, all but pouting in his corner, mumble, “ _you’re_ going to be ten times harder.”

   He looked like he was trying to trapeze out of his shirt. And luckily for him, Neku had a front row seat to the circus act. There was a smile on his face as he turned to dispose of his underpants. Only that smile faltered when he found that Joshua had put his back to him in the moments he had looked away. They were both so used to each other that he hadn’t thought Joshua would mind sharing a faucet. But now… he seemed all too uncomfortable. Neku hadn’t meant to make him feel this way. It made his stomach twinge.

    “I don’t see why _I_ should be the one conceding,” Joshua added in the direction of the shower curtain. “The entire ordeal was your fault, after all.”

   “It was supposed to be funny. Besides, you already dragged me in after you. Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

   He should know better than to think he was less vengeful than that.

   “I did _not_ drag you,” Josh protested, plenty offended enough to leer at him over his bare shoulder. “You trespassed on my private shower in scenic Neku’s Bathroom. I’m a very private man, you know.” Babbling seemed to be loosening his nerves. However, half his efforts appeared to be focused on struggling out of jeans that were form-fitting enough _without_ being soaked. The guy chose the wrong day to forego beach casual attire.

   And Neku—chuckled. Joshua looked as ridiculous as he was adorable. It was hard not to laugh under the circumstances. “I was talking about the mud. Not this.” He reached out to catch him, just in case his friend were to fall. “Let me help you.”

   “I can take off my own pants.” Though… he was quite visibly struggling, still. “Not all of us have enormous amounts of practice as you do.”

   “What?” That took him a moment to process. Practice… what? Taking off his clothes? Neku had yet to meet a human being who wasn’t versed in getting dressed. The comment made absolutely no sense, unless, of course, he was referring to taking off someone _else’s_ pants.

   “I can count the amount of people I’ve had sex with on one hand, Josh. One hand. Stop wiggling before you get yourself killed.”

   “I didn’t know you had eleven fingers.”

   “Hold on to that. I’ll pull from the bottom,” carefully, he took the underside of Josh’s leg. He tried not to let it bother him, but that didn’t mean that the words hadn’t stung. Neku knew that he was exaggerating quite a bit. It wasn’t his place to commentate, much less accuse Neku of slanderous history. He had always been under the impression that Joshua didn’t care who he spent his time with. If it bothered him so much, he should be mad at himself more than anyone else, rather than lashing out out of jealousy.

_If_ he were jealous, that is.

   One leg free, Joshua set to peeling off the rest himself, and Neku let him.

   “I can get out, if you want me to.”

   He turned away from the blond as to avoid his gaze. Sometimes he was a lot more sensitive than his train-wreck bravado let off. Concessions and hurt feelings on his part, though, still tended to take Josh by surprise. Or… maybe the guy needed to see someone about his potential lack in proper empathy. They both knew that Josh was capable of being awful—selfish, cold, arrogant. Neku used to often wonder how he could even stand to like him with how short of a temper he had, much less keep around all these years. And, to top it off, the blond was dreadful at apologies.

   He was contemplating getting out of the shower without an answer before his back was assailed with a ludicrous amount of blue-tinted product. It was fucking freezing compared to the water raining down on them, and he had nearly jumped a foot in the air out of surprise.

   “Who’s being the huge baby now, Sakuraba?”

   “Ack—hey! You piece of shit!”

   Joshua’s feelings of triumph were short lived. He seemed to be forgetting that Neku knew one of his greatest weaknesses. As haughty and poised as he pretended to be, his nerves were sensitive, and Neku knew exactly which spots to poke that would make him squeal. Joshua had barely basked in his own glory before he was jolting like a startled rodent. It wasn’t much use, but he feverishly attempted to bat his hands away. There was a reason the blond did more watching than exercising at the gym.

   “Ne—Neku, no!” He pushed at the man’s chest, which only served to make Neku smile wider. The endeavor was futile. Joshua’s protests were wreathed by uncontrollable laughter and the nerdy, inarticulate snorts caused by trying to hold it in. It couldn’t have gotten any cuter when, with his hair obscuring most of his vision, Joshua resorted to jab the shampoo bottle into Neku’s chest to try and push him away.

   The pressure of the plastic against his sternum hurt a lot more than he was willing to admit, though he swallowed the initial reaction to cry out in pain. Neku was determined to preserve that laughter for as long as he could manage. That meant that he would have to hold his own against Joshua’s rebuttal, to refrain from waving a white flag in surrender. He also couldn’t forego his onslaught of tickling.

   Neku would have to do whatever it takes to thwart his protesting hands—which would require… a little bit of restraining on his part.

   Just as the fictitious lightbulb beamed above his head, a voice in the back of his mind warned him that he was about to take it too far. He should absolutely, most definitely _not_ do the thing which he was about to do. Unfortunately, Neku wasn’t known for doing the things he was supposed to. If he had, he wouldn’t have gotten them both coated in mud to begin with. He would have been sitting quietly at his desk, doing his damn homework. His cigarettes would have been abandoned and he wouldn’t have found his juvenile self in handcuffs three—four? —times to date.

   If Neku would take responsibility for himself, just once, he could be honest with Joshua about the way he had been feeling for him since the ninth grade.

   And so—he wrapped his arms tightly around Joshua’s shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides. Neku continued to jab at potentially ticklish body parts the best way that he could without allowing the wriggling demon to be set free.

   “Noooo!”

   Joshua’s protest was a howl more than anything else. A howl that abruptly dissolved into miserable laughter and futile flailing in Neku’s hold. Blond hair slapped his shoulder as Joshua threw his head back and fell back against him through no will of his own.  

   “You should have seen this coming, pipsqueak!”

   “Are you trying to kill us!?”

   They were one slip away from concussions and internal bleeding, but Neku could hardly care through his own heavy laughter. Er—almost didn’t care. There was a hilt in his hysterics as he nearly lost his footing. The shampoo bottle made an unpleasant thunk as it fell from Joshua’s hands.

   As the severity of the situation settled in, it was then that Neku released the blond from his grip. He held up both his hands as his insufferable tickling ceased, as if submitting himself to armed forces. Neku took a step back with a smile no less prominent on his face. Above him, the shower head continued to rain down across his skin.

   “Okay, okay. I’m done. I won’t do it again. I swear.”

   “Josh, I swear,” the blond mimicked without hesitation, despite having very little breath to do so. It illustrated his priorities, for sure. As if Joshua would believe Neku and his outstretched hands. They both knew that his “swears” had no resolve behind them.

   Joshua had begun to turn his head, perhaps to say as much, when his gaze jerked away as quickly.

   Was he… blushing?

   Oh, right. It would seem they both were forgetting their predicament amid their squabbling. Joshua must not want to raise the opportunity for him to call him out on acting like an anime middle school girl. In the past, he might have seized the opportunity, but not anymore.

   Neku glanced down for just a moment. The other’s legs were so… nice…

   “If it’s not a pinky promise, it’s not official,” Joshua said.

   There was a high chance it would be better if he wasn’t looking. Still, Neku couldn’t help wanting him to. He could feel the corners of his grin turning soft as he admired him from behind, the curve of his shoulders.

   “Deal,” he vowed, his voice only barely carrying above the surrounding noise. Neku looped his little finger around Joshua’s before raising both their hands close to his chest. If it weren’t for the steam coming off the hot water, the blond may have felt his breath on his fingers. “I promise I won’t tickle you again.”

   What would other people think if they knew this side of him? He hoped, not for the first time, that Joshua felt smug. Sure, other people had seen him naked—long before Joshua had, even. But they didn’t get to experience the pinky holding or the soft looks between insults. They had never fallen asleep holding hands with him in the middle of the day. If they didn’t have that, what did they really have? How could they possibly compare?

   Against his prior judgement, Joshua faced Neku. Their fingers remained loosely linked at their side. Joshua’s eyes looked even deeper when his hair stuck to his face like this. “Ever,” he added, as if it still counted. “Josh, I promise I won’t tickle you again _ever_.”

   "You know I can't promise you that. I have poor impulse control."

   It was a lie, gliding through his teeth. There wasn't a single person alive who could spill bullshit more easily than that-- and it was Joshua. Neku had tremendous impulse control, or else he would be scooping the blond into his arms bridal style, whisking him away to the bedroom, where they would fuck until dawn. He should kiss him, he should jerk him off like he had the night they'd gotten drunk together at Kariya's.

   Then again, Neku never actually did what he _should_.

   He let go of Joshua's hand so that he could hand him his loofah, because it certainly was his. Joshua was always leaving his crap all over Neku's apartment. "But if it will make you happy: I promise I won’t tickle you again, ever.”


	2. Two Years Later

   It could have been Neku who flat lined on the hospital bed that night, and it wouldn’t have made a difference. He felt like he had died. Not like when you’re in college and you hadn’t had a good night’s rest in a couple of weeks, when you’re joking about suicide on your twitter page. This wasn’t like a heavy sigh after a long day, when you feel like the depression you’ve battled since middle school had become exceedingly unbearable, and you’re convinced that you had already stopped living a long time ago. Neku hadn’t even been the one between them with clinical depression.

   Joshua had died, and a fragment of his soul had gone with him.

   Neku had managed to scrounge together a degree, only because he knew Josh would have hated him for not conquering university in his stead. Although it had been nothing short of a waste. A waste of yen, a waste of classes, a waste of sketchbooks that had lost both color and imagination. The pages were filled with a similar monochrome theme: hospital rooms, sad boys, curly blonds, grim reapers, bleeding wounds, abandoned coffee mugs… flat lines.

   He had never heard a sound so haunting in his twenty-two years living.

   Neku used to take commissions, visit art galleries, enter contests with impressive ribbons and cash value. He had dreamed of animating Slammurai reboots or becoming a designer for the infamous CAT. Banksy was supposed to quiver in fear that, one day, Neku’s name would be plastered on top of his own. He had long term goals and the determination to achieve them.

   The only successful thing he’d done for himself was become the assistant manager of the Wildkat café. If you could even call it an accomplishment. It was a nice addition to amp up his resume, if nothing else, for it sounded impressive enough on paper. Truthfully, the job put enough stress on him that he often wanted to bang his head against the bean grinder. Other times it was so boring that he couldn’t help dozing off at one of the small tables hidden in the corner. It didn’t help the strain on his mind that he managed the shop more than his asshole of a boss did. The place would have gone out of business if Neku hadn’t worked his ass off creating consumer promotions, new signs, or spent his free time wandering around Shibuya to drag potential customers down Cat Street.

   He ordered the stock, he hired the employees, he created the schedule, he adjusted the payroll. Neku trained, cleaned, manned a register, supervised, and pretended that the owner wasn’t hiding in his upstairs apartment, binge-drinking away the memories of his only son.

   His friends had long since made peace with Joshua’s passing. They had gotten into new relationships, or fallen back into old ones, had gotten married, become pregnant, pursued the career of their dreams, and checked off boxes on their bucket list. As for Neku?

   Neku had tired days and even more tired nights at Wildkat.  He had flings with young, skinny women who had long legs and beach waves that had been bleached to Hell and back. His mouth was sour every morning he peeled himself out of a stranger’s bed, slipping away before she could gain consciousness. Neku never called and he never so much as remembered their names.

   Once, after losing count of the shots he had tossed back, the redhead brought home a flat-chested girl with a pixie cut. He’d pulled out a realistic dildo out of his drawer and practically begged her to peg him with it. She’d enthusiastically complied, until _that_ name slipped past his teeth. Neku had never before been stricken across the face so hard, and the most mortifying part about it was the pity glossing Shiki’s face the following day. The bruising around his eye had tormented him for weeks.

   He hated himself so much, it made him feel sick. Some days he hardly made it to his empty, somber studio apartment before he’d begin to vomit. The only thing that prevented his home from being any less dark and lifeless was the cat that was kept inside it.

   Today was his first day off work in nearly a month, which was debatably as unbearable as being stuck within the confines of the café. At least the workflow could distract him from wondering how he could have allowed himself to become so deplorable. He should have _made_ something of himself in his friend’s memory, not thrown his potential away. Instead he was sitting by himself in what used to be their favorite ramen shop, rubbing hard at his temples, all because the pills he had swallowed hadn’t put a dent in his intolerable headache.

   He almost didn’t notice when Ken Doi placed a bowl of steaming, mouthwatering noodles in front of him. Neku had surely forgotten that he had ordered it in the first place—much less remembered what it was. It was something that had to do with fish, judging by the smell of it. The presentation resembled an old dish that the chef had whipped up during his experimental phase, back when Neku was still a high school student. Ken had given it a ridiculous name: The Big Catch.

   The dish looked as unappealing as it had all the way back then. There was no chance in hell Neku would have ordered it on his own.  He had only given it a try after his partner-of-sorts had ordered for him, despite all his protests. Joshua hardly struggled to get Neku to try something on his behalf. The blond always made him pay for it, too, whether it be in yen or with a crushed ego.

   His chopsticks had hardly stirred the contents within his bowl when his cellphone vibrated with text notification. Up until now, not a single soul had attempted to contact him. He couldn’t say that he had been disappointed about that. It wasn’t as if he had anything riveting to add to recent conversation. The text was more likely than not an update on their mutual friend Eri, who had taken up bedrest earlier this week after her doctor had warned her about entering early labor. And if the message wasn’t coming from Shiki, his second guess would be that Kariya was attempting to bullshit his way out of yet _another_ shift. That would be the third time this week, and Neku was in no mood to have to deal with his imprudence. Kariya was going to have to eat his ass before he would even _consider_ taking over his double shift.

   What kind of nerve did he have to beg Neku for a day off over text, anyhow? It wasn’t like they didn’t know each other outside of work. He could at least give him a damn phone call—

   The name that displayed on his screen had him choking on his own tongue. Despite the never-ending warmth inside of Ramen Don, his blood was forming ice within my veins.

   He hadn’t received a message from this number in over a year. It shouldn’t even be in service, much less—

   How was this even possible? Joshua was—Joshua had—

  _“Slammurai’s season finale was kind of a bummer, huh?”_

   The message was laid out so casually, so spontaneously, so… so stupidly _like_ him that Neku could even read it in his obnoxiously, nasally, stupid voice. If this was someone’s idea of a joke—it was disgusting. Worse than that, even.

   He couldn’t be hallucinating, could he?

   It was either witchcraft or dumb luck that he managed to spell anything correctly in his response. He couldn’t just ignore it, right? Whoever this jackass was. Neku’s hands were shaking so badly… not the kind of trembling you endured after downing one too many Viper energy drinks. The—worrisome kind of quaking that drew attention to him from… the eyes of customers who sat on both sides of him…

   He thinks they’re staring, at the very least. Why wouldn’t they? Neku must look like a total moron with the way he huddled around his phone; shivering. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen to be sure.

   Midway through typing, he hesitated to tell himself that he should be ignoring the message. He should be deleting it or marking it off as spam or—who the hell knows. Neku should be doing anything other than responding to it.

   Then again, if he wanted to learn the identity of the sender, he was going to have to fish a little to get some answers, right?

   Right. Good thinking, Sakuraba. Who knew that you had it in you.

_“Very.”_

_“Your phone is still in service?”_

   One minute of waiting had turned into two, then three, followed by… Neku dropped the phone on the counter before he started to go insane with anticipation. For all he knew, that first message had been nothing more than a fluke in technology. An unexplained phenomenon that he could shrug off his shoulders and pretend had never happened.

   What was he expecting to come out of this, anyway? No sane person would have hunched like Quasimoto over his phone to communicate with the dead.

   Growing up, he had always thought he was so much smarter than everyone else. His peers had been so slow in comparison. Now look what he had become.

   Feeling antsy still, Neku thumbed through old messages—ones he hadn’t looked back on in months. Browsing through it had hurt too much, although the thought of erasing those memories hurt even more. So, he kept everything: the late-night conversations, the invitations to meet up, the indirect flirting that made up Joshua to a fault. It was several months of intimate material that made his eyes burn and his chest feel heavy. His eyes had begun to water from simply glancing at the dot that should have been Joshua’s online and available now notations when—

_Bzzt. Bzzt._

_“I’m surprised as you are. The overdrafts on my bank account must be something awful. Spot me? :’( “_

   So much for passing off the text as a technical difficulty. Somebody had gotten a hold of Joshua’s phone, or they had hacked into it to make it look like they had. The likeliness to Joshua’s narrative was uncanny—and he had never been a predictable individual. To replicate his speech pattern, this person would have had to have been close to him. That would make up for a brief list of suspects, considering the amount of people he’d liked couldn’t fill up a full hand of fingers. The only person who would have been closer to Joshua was none other than his old man.

   Could Mr. Hanekoma possibly type with this much eloquence after drinking himself into a stupor? The last thing Neku needed to do was take care of a guy who had fallen so deeply into mourning that he had started to impersonate his deceased child.

   But… he ought to ditch Ramen Don and check up on his boss, just in case. It wasn’t as if Neku had any appetite left. He didn’t want to insult Ken Doi by puking his delicately prepared meal across the counter. His stomach churned the longer that he stared at his phone.

_“H, if this is you, I need you to tell me. This isn’t funny.”_

   The phone buzzed a lot more quickly this time around.

_“I’m not Sanae. And frankly, I’m hurt.”_

_“It sure isn’t funny, being assumed a thousand years old and addicted to caffeine. How is he, Neku?”_

   His fingers still wavered. The ramen was getting cold. Kanji filtered in and out of focus the longer he stared at them. Was he hoping that the texts would disappear with each blink? Would that be better than wondering how he was going to respond?

   Neku was going to deck this guy in the face the moment he found him. Not that a broken nose could suffice for pretending to be the walking dead.

_“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”_

_Let’s see what kind of lame excuse you can come up with for that one, smart ass._

_“Would you wish that on him?”_

   Oh, God. God no. Contacting him was one thing, but reaching out to that sad drunk would not only be cruel, it would be excruciating. The impersonator could fuck with Neku all he wanted if it meant that he stayed far away from the barista. Sure, he held a lot of resentment for the man after he’d fallen off the wagon, but that didn’t mean that he wanted him to go through any more anguish. The man needed healing, not torture.

   Neku hadn’t provided any comfort since Joshua’s passing. What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

   They weren’t talking about scheming to set up a date with an Avon saleswoman for Beat. This was—reincarnation. Even as Joshua’s partner in crime, he wasn’t going to set Mr. Hanekoma up for false hope. He couldn’t be the one to break his heart all over again.

   Besides, the mysterious texter could not possibly be his son.

   The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his phone vibrated in his hands.

_“I’m sorry for shaking you up, Neku. It’s just you still owe me a rematch in strip poker, and it haunts me.”_

   How--?

   Neku did not go around talking about his poker games. He hadn’t mentioned them since Joshua passed away, even on days when he missed them the most. Those were the days he used to threaten to choke Joshua if he didn’t stifle his giggles, after they had spray painted the Underpass and were hiding from the cops. Together they would sneak into movie theaters, distract waiters so they could slip out of restaurant without paying the tab.

   That last match had been private. Nobody should have any knowledge of the event except…

   Well, if this person knew that he used to play poker, they had to have been someone involved in the game. Beat wasn’t cunning enough to imitate Joshua. Shiki wasn’t petty enough. Kariya? Uzuki?

_“What kind of dumbass do you take me for? You can’t be him.”_

_“Neku, I’m sorry.”_

   The only time the blond had apologized to him had been after he’d accidentally struck Neku’s nose with his elbow. They had no idea someone’s face could bleed that profusely.

   _“Do you want to play a game?”_

   There had always been something about Joshua that suspiciously unsettling. It was in the way that his eyes narrowed when he laughed, the way he’d hum before proposing a dare, the way he would chuckle when he knew something that no one else had. Neku had lost track how many times he had compared the blond to the devil.

   He sure liked to play, like a cat preying after a mouse.

   Maybe he had been wrong when he promised Joshua that he’d be going to a better place. It wouldn’t be unlike the man kick Satan off his own throne and steal the crown for himself. Neku could be signing away his soul to the Lord of the Underworld, but who cared? What did he have left to live for?

_“I do.”_

_More than anything._

_“Hachiko. Work for you?”_

_“I’m there.”_

   The destination of choice came as no surprise. It was _the_ meeting spot among their friends. Neku wasn’t too far from the statue, either. All that he had to do was pass 104, cut across the scramble crossing, and—

   Why was he doing this to himself? Masochism? Did he honestly believe he was going to come face-to-face with a deceased crush?

   Somebody was planning douchebaggery to the highest degree, and Neku was willingly walking into their trap.

   Neku had dropped more than enough yen to cover the bill, then he headed out the door before he had the chance to change his mind.

   The walk to Hachiko was a blur. He might as well have gotten there blind, because it took him a couple of hard blinks to get his sight back into focus. Neku had almost felt as if he had woken up from a dream. One minute he was pushing past the door to Ramen Don and the next— he was standing by the statue of an Akita who had one single, floppy ear.  Somebody had placed a flower from the nearby bushes between his paws.

   He remembered the time he nearly cracked his knuckles while standing in this very spot. Neku had taken a swing at a guy who had told Joshua that he was too pretty to be a real man. The blond had been so proud of him that he’d bought him a one hundred count of chicken nuggets from Sunshine. He had never paid for anything before that day.

   Memories of the past put aside, he’d ought to be turning his ass around and heading home. There was still time to go back. Neku could block the number, take some sleeping pills, and forget this day ever happened. But first, he was going to have to hit up a convenience store for smokes. His current pack wasn’t going to make it through the night.

   _Bzzt. Bzzt._

   A text? Could it be from him?

   Neku fished his cellphone out of his pocket. He had to cup his hand around his eyes and the screen to properly see it beneath the glaring sun. This was no ordinary text, however. There was a photo attachment, one he could hardly make out without squinting.

   Orange hair, centered in the image, a spark of flame against a background green foliage, concrete, and muted clothing. It almost looked like a painting, where he, candid, was the focus.

_“Lookin’ good, partner.”_

   Whoever had Joshua’s phone was here. Here, and watching him. His blood ran cold at the thought.

   Neku glanced around in a bit of a panic. His eyes jumped from one person to the next, seeking out anyone with a familiar face. High school girls were taking group selfies, business men were rushing towards the train station, locals were walking their dogs, and tourists were huddled around a map… none of them was someone he recognized. None of them were _him_.

   He dropped his head down to his phone. “Stalking is a one-sided game, you know.”

   It would have been nice if Hachiko provided more shade. While he waited, he turned up the brightness of his cell as high as it could go. Then he immediately regretted it once he opened the following incoming file. A lower contract would have softened the blow of what he saw.

   Joshua. Doubtlessly, indisputably, _amazingly_ Joshua. He was throwing up a peace sign like he didn’t have a care in the world, a cheeky smile on his face. It was so heartbreaking, so wonderful, so much like him that Neku’s throat felt tight. Perfectly captioned below were the words: “ _catch me if you can ;’)_.”

   The back of Neku’s head was in the frame. He nearly hurt his neck whipping around in search of the boy. According to the photograph he was directly behind him, but when he turned around he saw _nothing_. Nothing except more dogs, shutterbugs, college friends laughing together with Sunshine shakes in hand. For all he knew, Neku was looking directly at him. They could be practically staring each other down and he was still desperately trying to find him in his hiding place. Joshua was not among anyone he could see. And why should he be? He was dead.

   The fucking prick was playing him. Neku gritted his teeth in annoyance. He would follow the idiot to the ends of the Earth if he could. Joshua wouldn’t even have to ask.

   _“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”_ Neku typed back. His hands were trembling again.

   His heart gave a nauseating pound as he received another picture message. Unlike the previous one, the streets were sparser and dark in comparison. Neku was still visible several yards in the background. He wouldn’t have realized he was there if it weren’t for how vibrant his hair was dyed.

_“I came out to you years ago, silly. What more could you want?”_

   _“Clearly you don’t remember how many cigarettes you owe me,”_ he replied. Neku wasted no time in following the direction of the clever rat. He had been born and raised inside Shibuya. Hardly seconds passed before he could pinpoint the images location.

  Neku had looked back to his phone once he’d stood in the presumed spot.

_“As well as the stolen nuggets you have to make up for.”_

_“I thought you liked sharing with me. I did.”_

   Of course, he did, sickeningly so. It had always made him feel fuzzy inside to share things as if they were a couple. Like plucking cigarettes from the same box and igniting them with the same fuel meant as much as living together. He missed the closeness when Neku would cup his hands around Joshua’s mouth, lean in with a lit flame…

   He never knew, until how, how precious those tiny gestures would become.

   Their friends had thought they spent too much time together. But to Neku, that time hadn’t been enough. He wasn’t done sharing.

   The next photo was taken near the Scramble Crossing. Where the hell was he going? How far could Neku wander before he was heading in the wrong direction?

   By now, there was no point in swapping witty remarks. Neku had a mission to complete. He followed each direction as it came to him, until he had found himself a stone’s throw from the city’s busiest intersection. He stepped slowly through the innocuous passage, like he expected to come alive in the shape of mutated animals, launching themselves at his throat. Or else the pristinely lit lanterns fizzed out overhead. Curiosity nagged him with each step. What did Joshua plan on doing down Nonbei Yokocho—a drunkard’s alley?

   They had very rarely come down here together, never once during the daytime. Nobody was looking for a drink or a bite to eat for hours. It was no different from walking into a ghost town of another dimension. Abandoned.

   Wait. That was it. He had found somewhere where the two of them could be alone.

   _“Come here,”_ Joshua urged.

   There was no going back. Neku had been given a hundred opportunities to drop out of the game. He could be coming face-to-face with an ax murderer, and he only had himself to blame for falling for the mask. Each step was making his chest hurt.

   That fear hadn’t subsided when he came to a stop. A slim figure rounded the corner in front of him, only a few feet away. Near enough that they could almost touch. The ground nearly gave away beneath his boots.

   “Neku.”


End file.
